Gina: My First International Student

International students are important to me and I think God started the whole love relationship many years ago.

I snuck into the school gymnasium late after driving two hours for the school program. Because of a busy schedule, I thought of not going, but finally I got in my car and made the trip to Lawton Christian School.

Small, precious students bounced up and down to praise songs like Here I am to Worship. Their petite, Asian second grade teacher choreographed the music to perfection and moved energetically along with them. The kids in the predominately white Christian school responded to their bubbly teacher’s cheerleading ways.

I was amazed at the teacher’s talent, knowing this was her first year to teach and she was nervous about it. No one would have guessed that now. The song ended and the teacher hushed the children so she could tell a story.

“Once upon a time,” began the teacher, “there was a woman who wanted a baby so much, but she couldn’t have one. This made her very sad. Soon she left the United States and went to live in another country – far, far away.”

“One day, this woman saw a couple holding a dark-haired, dark-skinned baby and decided it was time to visit Il Mag Won Orphanage. What do you think she saw at the orphanage?”

“Babies!”  the students yelled. “Children!”

“You are right! There were about a hundred babies in that building. Babies from newborn to five years old! And this young woman walked through every room, looking at the children. Most of the orphans were girls. You see, in that country, no one wanted little girls. They wanted little boys who would take care of them when they grew old.”

“None of the children had a family. None had a mother. This made the woman concerned, so she began to visit the orphanage every week to help out. And every time she went into the orphanage, when she took off her shoes and stepped up on to the floor, the orphans would run up to her and surround her, jumping up and down with their arms outstretched. They wanted to be picked up and hugged.” The teacher paused.

The school children were enraptured by the story.  “What happened?” they shouted.  “What happened next?” 

From the top of the stadium bleachers, my eyes grew misty from the simple telling of a powerful story. I, too, waited anxiously to hear what would be next.

“This special day, when the woman stepped up onto the wooden floor, children swarmed around her. All except one little barefoot girl who stayed apart by herself. A child about two years old stood in a corner facing the floor. Her hair hung down into her face and her heavy gray pants were worn clear through. She had been found wandering on the streets by herself, so this was her first day in the orphanage. She was very, very scared.”

The audience of children and children’s workers grew silent and listened close.

The teacher went on with her story, acting it out. “The woman noticed the tiny girl and walked over to her. The child backed away, farther into the corner. She didn’t know this person. But the woman looked kindly at her and reached down and picked her up.” 

“The woman’s arms were warm and comforting.  She carried the little girl upstairs and asked about her. The child had cigarette burns on her body and cut marks on her skin. She had ringworms and bruises and would not talk. The kind woman fed the little girl cracker jacks, but the child was not used to such rich food, so she vomited it up. Ugh!  Have you ever done that?”

The school children laughed, like children do.

“Then a special thing happened. The woman decided to adopt this girl. All the way on the other side of the world, she found a child to be her very own. And God knew what that little girl wanted the most. A mama. So God gave her a new mother. One who would love her bigger than the sky. The woman brought the little oriental girl back to the United States to live with her. Now isn’t that a wonderful story?”

“Yes!” yelled the students.

“There is something more about the story I must tell you. You know that little girl in the orphanage? Well, that was me! I was that child in the orphanage. My mama went all the way to Kunsan, Korea, to adopt me and bring me back to Oklahoma.” The teacher’s voice choked as she spoke.

“And that little girl’s mama is sitting up in the bleachers with you.”  She pointed my way. 

I was, of course, bawling by now.

“Mama, please stand up.”

I could hardly do so. My knees were shaking. Pictures rolled across the screen in front of the gymnasium. Pictures of my daughter Gina as a baby in old gray pants with her head hanging down. Pictures of Gina in a new Korean Hanbok, the traditional clothing I bought her, and pictures of her graduating from college.

Never in my life had I watched such a wonderful second grade teacher or heard such a magnificent storyteller. No wonder the children loved her. I couldn’t help but love her, too.

Written in 2006 by Kathryn Spurgeon. Gina likes to remind her that she’s her first international student.

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